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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25998058">That Ancient Magic has a Name</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faye_Claudia/pseuds/Faye_Claudia'>Faye_Claudia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Bonding, Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Destiel, Cas is confused, Dean is confused, Fluff and Angst, Gabriel is Loki, Hurt Sam Winchester, Incorrect Norse mythology, M/M, Parental Bobby Singer, Protective Dean Winchester, References to Norse Religion &amp; Lore, Slow Burn (kinda), Soul Bond</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:14:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25998058</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faye_Claudia/pseuds/Faye_Claudia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Here’s the thing; Sam’s smart. It’s what makes him a damn good hunter. He might have the training and the reflexes and the strength from years of experience on the road, but Dean has all those things too, and he’s always been a better shot than Sam. But smarts, that’s Sam’s forte. It’s why, when he wakes up naked, bloody and loosely chained to a very cold stone alter in a frozen tundra with no memories after a witch-hunt gone wrong, he doesn’t panic.</p><p>In which Sam is almost made the King of the Jotun's bitch; but he's good at improvising.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>241</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam's quick thinking pulls him out of trouble...and into bigger trouble.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Here’s the thing; Sam’s smart. It’s what makes him a damn good hunter. He might have the training and the reflexes and the strength from years of experience on the road, but Dean has all those things too, and he’s always been a better shot than Sam. But smarts, that’s Sam’s forte. It’s why, when he wakes up naked, bloody and loosely chained to a very cold stone alter in a frozen tundra with no memories after a witch-hunt gone wrong, he doesn’t panic. He takes in the runes engraved on the chains holding him in place, takes in the snow dusted evergreens, the blindingly blue sky, determines that he’s probably somewhere in Alaska – or possibly Canada – and that whatever this is, its tied to the ancient Norse. Like, pre Prose Edda, rare, raw and ancient magic hunters usually don’t want to mess with, lest they end up dead. There’s no one around, but their air is alive with the metallic thrum of wild, inhuman energy. Sam does the math, he knows what this is, and he is not okay with what the end result is going to be. So he closes his eyes again and says a quick prayer to Castiel, hoping there’s no angelic warding or anything else preventing Cas from coming to his rescue.</p><p>He waits, counting his breaths as they rattle out of his lungs and through his chattering teeth.</p><p>He should have known it would be too easy. That Praying to Cas never works when he’s needed most.</p><p>So Sam improvises. The summoning spell is carved deeply and elegantly into the tree closest to him, - in an ancient Nordic dialect Sam can barely read, but he doesn’t have to be able to. He can make out one word- well, two words, it’s a hyphenated name in English, and it’s close enough to another name that Sam can reach across towards the tree with blue fingers he cant feel anything in anymore, angle his wrist so that a jagged edge of the cuff is aimed outwards, and clumsily scratch out the first part of the name etched into the wood.</p><p>He’s taking a gamble on the asshole being as slippery and hard to kill as he has always been.</p><p>He smears his blood over what’s left of the rune for good measure, says another prayer, and finally succumbs to what he’s pretty sure is hypothermia. He knows he’s not supposed to fall asleep like this, but if he’s right, he’ll be fine, and if he’s wrong, he’ll be dead anyway. Win-win, almost.</p><p>
  <em>Cas, tell Dean I’m sorry, just in case.</em>
</p><p>There was a lot that went unspoken in Sam’s life. Some things just didn’t need to be said out loud. “I love you”, for example, were not words Sam had probably ever heard his dad or brother say, but it was an irrefutable truth in his life that he was loved. Dean had proven that a hundred times over. Sam’s fluid concept of his own sexuality, Dean’s tendency to grip Sam too tightly on the shoulder after a hunt, the nightmares they both suffered – the brothers wouldn’t even consider vocalising those kinds of things. It wasn’t what Winchesters did.</p><p>So Sam’s unspoken, unacknowledged, barely recognised bond with the Trickster was never given a second thought, not when they first almost had a thing when Sam still thought he was human, not when Sam got Groundhog day-ed and not when he was outed as an archangel. Not even when he died saving them. That is, until Sam became the subject of a very ancient, very twisted sacrificial ceremony aimed at the Ancient Norse Jotun king, Utgard-Loki.</p><p>“You clever son of a bitch, fuck you,” Sam feels warm. He’s warm and he can feel his toes and his fingers and his dick – freezing temperatures were not nice to the male anatomy, holy shit. He doesn’t feel sore either, can’t feel sticky blood or the wounds that should have been on his body anywhere. When he rolls over and opens his eyes, all he can see is soft gold bed linen and fluffy pillows. “I hope you’re happy with yourself,” Sam blinks, and looks up at Gabriel, standing over him in a set of very elaborate robes. He’s got his arms crossed and he looks pissed, but all Sam does is smile a little deliriously, grin, and say “knew you weren’t dead,”.</p><p>“Congratulations, you caught me, literally.”</p><p>“Devil you know,” Sam waves his hand lazily in the air. His head still feels kinda fuzzy, and he’s trapped in a weirdly comforting feeling of safety, which should be concerning. He’s still naked and very vulnerable in the same room as an archangel who has never actually done anything to make Sam feel warm and fuzzy and <em>safe</em>. “Didn’t wanna be Ut-Utgard Loki’s bitch.”</p><p>Gabriel sighs heavily, and slumps down onto the bed next to Sam. “I cant blame you for that kiddo, he’s worse then any of the stories make him out to be. But now we’ve got our own problem.” Gabriel lifts Sam’s wrist again, and something hot and electric flashes through Sam at the contact. Something in Gabriel’s touch feels right. The hunter part of Sam’s mind finally starts to kick in, starts to strategize on how to get out, starts to rationalise what Gabriel’s done to him.</p><p>But he knows what Gabriel’s done – he made the choice himself, hell, he even prayed for it. And there’s the proof, on his wrist in dark black ink are two snakes closely intertwined and eating each other’s tails, wriggling around almost like they’re alive. Sam hopes it’s an optical illusion.</p><p>“I guess I’m your bitch now instead,” Sam’s lips twitch into an almost smile, but he doesn’t really feel any amusement at this situation.</p><p>“Devil you know, right kid?” Gabriel echoes Sam, “Don’t get me wrong, if you had done this when you weren’t under duress, I’d have been very happy to work with what you’ve got,” Gabriel eyes Sam’s naked torso, which slowly flushes a deep shade of pink. Sam sits up and grips the blankets tighter to himself.</p><p>“Where are we?” He’s making a mental list of things he needs to do; 1. Find pants, 2. Get out, 3. Find Dean.</p><p>“Asgard, which, by the way, Odin’s not too pleased about, but he can’t really do anything because you’re tied to me now.” Gabriel gets up and starts pacing, and Sam notices his robes swish and shine in the light like they’re spun from gold and silver. How the hell is he supposed to get out of Asgard?</p><p>“Right, okay, I need pants,” baby steps.</p><p>Gabriel snorts, “What, you think you can sacrifice yourself to me and then just go back to big brother like nothing happened? Sammy, you need to comprehend this, you are mine now,” Something icy twists its way through Sam’s heart, and he very slowly starts to realise that he’s probably fucked.</p><p>Granted, not badly enough to be Utgard-Loki’s sex slave-slash-dinner, but Gabriel is still unpredictable, and helpful as he was towards the end, he never truly proved himself a friend of the Winchesters. Besides, his death was clearly faked, which means he ran and hid from the apocalypse – again. “Can I have some clothes – please?” Sam sets his jaw. Gabriel snaps his fingers and Sam feels a strange sensation of being enveloped before he find himself standing in wool breeches and a leather tunic – clothing he can identify thanks to weekends spent LARPing with Charlie. “Real people clothes?” Sam askes in exasperation. “You’re pushing your luck, kid,” Gabriel laughs, before his brows knit together and his mouth draws into a thin line. “We need to talk about that ritual,” he says ominously.</p><p>Sam nods, sensing the suddenly sombre atmosphere. The iciness in his heart twists tightly around his chest.</p><p>“Do you know what kind of ritual that was? Who the people were who did that to you?” Gabriel sounds like a principle asking a delinquent if he knows how much the property damage he caused costs, and Sam almost finds himself regressing into a sullen and snarky teenager. “I was kind of busy being kidnapped and sacrificed to figure everything out,” he shoots back. It’s the wrong thing to say, because Gabriel’s hazel-honey eyes narrow and darken. “You were taken by a mystery cult Sam, one so old and so guarded that the Aesir barely know anything about it. It’s how Utgard-Loki’s kept himself from fading,”</p><p>“So I was kidnapped by Scandinavian cultists? I was on a witch hunt in Iowa!” Sam realises he sounds slightly bewildered, which he is…but this is far from the craziest thing to have happened to him (Given that he both started and stopped the apocalypse by drinking demon blood, for one).</p><p>“Hate to break it to you Samoose, you were not hunting witches. You and Dean are getting rusty,”</p><p>“We are <em>not</em> rusty,” Now he just sounds indignant.</p><p>“None of this is the point, Sammy,” Gabriel snaps his fingers. Sam flinches, but nothing happens, “The point being, that ritual you were the star of was a vary precisely worded, specifically placed ritual reliant on the correct alignment of the stars and moon, the correct compounds of the right elements binding you to the right stone with the right amount of the right chemicals – every detail of that ritual had to be perfect. And you found a loophole by scratching out Utgard from Utgard-Loki. You’re damn lucky that worked, Winchester.” Gabriel’s voice turned slightly manic at the end of his rant before he stopped, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then turned to face Sam with a Very Calm expression that was worse then his previous near hysteria. “So anyway, we’re married now.”</p><p>~*~</p><p>Dean’s been looking for Sam for over a week and he’s just about ready to launch a full scale attack on every and any nest, den, coven or alternate plane of reality to get answers. The problem is, no one has any. The trail on the witches in Iowa ran cold, Crowley hadn’t admitted to anything under torture, so either he really didn’t know, or he had something big up his sleeve that he needed Sam for, so either way, Dean was keeping the King of Hell on a tight leash, Cas hadn’t heard anything on Angel Radio, and short of jumping into the pit to find him, Dean’s out of ideas.</p><p>“I am sorry Dean, I haven’t heard anything from Sam since his singular prayer of “Sorry,”. What was he sorry for? He sounded final.” Cas offers rather unhelpfully.</p><p>“You sure you’ve checked both heaven and hell for his soul?” Dean demands in turn. Cas, in his odd, inhuman way, places his hand stiffly on Dean’s shoulder, looks him in the eye, and speaks slowly, “Dean, I have searched all three planes for your brother, three times over. Wherever he is, it not in any reality known to us.”</p><p>“Fuck,” Dean wrenches away from Cas, but Cas doesn’t relinquish his hold on Dean’s shoulder – he almost seems afraid to let go of him, for his own sake or Dean’s, neither of them know. “I’ll call Bobby again, maybe he’s found something more on the coven we were hunting,”.</p><p>~*~</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Well, marriage is the best word to describe it,” Gabriel shrugs, but he doesn’t look as calm as his body language is trying to imply, which makes Sam’s whole being feel on edge. “The ritual was a one-way binding curse, would have made you Utgard-Loki’s bitch. It’s only preformed every sixty years or so, roughly the average human life-span. I think he likes having like a valet or something on hand to meet his every need,”</p><p>“Every need?” Sure, Sam’s <em>thought</em> about the whole possible sex-slave thing, but having it vocalised is way worse.</p><p>“Pretty much, but when you altered the ritual to aim it at me, and sealed it with your blood over my name, you tied us together us both ways, me to you, and you to me. Well, the part of me that manifests as Loki, anyway. You sealed it even tighter by praying to me – Gabriel, with your hand on my - Loki – name smeared with your blood. You pulled both of my identities into this.”</p><p>“So we’re…tied to each other? What does that even mean?” Sam keeps blinking, wondering if this whole surreal experience will fade like a demon-blood detox hallucination.</p><p>“A lot of things, starting with the formal stuff. Other deities, monsters and creatures are going to start to recognise you as one of them. You’ve just made the Winchester name even more formidable, and aligned yourself with the things you hunt.” Before Sam could process <em>that,</em> Gabriel pushed him towards the door. You also need to be introduced officially to the Aesir, so we’d better get that over and done with.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Odin’s been summoning me for the last hour, and if I don’t show up two minutes ago he’s going to try put me in the cave again, so let’s go!” Gabriel snaps again in impatience, and Sam finds himself standing in front of a golden gilded throne that’s giving off such powerful waves of Magic Sam thinks he can physically see them. (The cage had been filled with power too, dark and painful and timeless but nothing like this. Wild and ancient and alien.) Odin’s a fat, frumpy, white haired old man who looks very out of place on the majesty of the throne in his denim jacket and hiking boots.</p><p>“Loki, Liesmith, mischief maker and bane of the Aesir, what have you done?”</p><p>“I have –“</p><p>“And I’ll thank you not to tell your lies, silver tongue, or I’ll imprison you with the intestines of your children again,” Gabriel winces beside Sam, and Sam nearly chokes.</p><p>“You’ll what?”</p><p>“I have taken a consort, Allfather,” Gabriel rushes out, clamping a hand on Sam’s shoulder and squeezing tightly. Sam takes the message to shut up, but his mind is reeling with all the stories he remembers about Loki that he’d never thought to associate with, well, Loki who’s actually Gabriel. “We bear each other’s marks, we are bound by mind and spirit, he swears no harm to the Aesir or their allies, and we’ll be on our honeymoon if anyone needs us,” Gabriel moves to snap again and Sam tries to process all that’s been said. What is his life anymore?</p><p>Is Dean okay?</p><p>“Hold it, Liesmith,” Odin raises a hand lazily, “I have not yet blessed your consort, and you are still of my court. And I know Sam Winchester to be a real pain in the ass.” Gabriel curses, and moves his grip from Sam’s shoulder to his hand. “Just…tell him what he wants to hear, and we’ll be out of here,” Sam bites the inside of his lip until he draws blood.</p><p>“Winchester, why have you bound yourself to Loki? What trick is at play here?”</p><p>“No trick, uh, Allfather,” Sam guesses it’s alright to call him that.</p><p>“Then what is it? He convinced you to abandon your hunting ways with ridiculously good sex?” Sam’s eyebrows shoot up. There’s so much to unpack in that one sentence. Gabriel nods in Sam’s peripheral vision, though, so Sam grimaces, but obeys. He does want to get out of this alive, after all.</p><p>“Yeah…that,” So maybe Sam’s reliance on his smarts is questionable. Odin laughs, though, as if this is a perfectly acceptable reason.  “Loki’s always been a particularly kinky bastard; I suppose I cannot fault you for falling victim to that.” He turns to face Gabriel again, and grins a wide, gap-toothed smile. “You have my approval, but be warned, liesmith, if-“</p><p>“If this is a trap, you’ll tie me up with the intestines of my sons again,” Gabriel waves his hand dismissively, but his grip on Sam’s hand tightens again.</p><p>“And it will be your hunter who keeps the poison out of your eyes this time,” Sam blinks, and when his eyes open again, he’s standing in a very nicely furnished penthouse apartment with a view of what he guesses is the Seattle city skyline.</p><p>Lightning cracks across the night sky outside the floor to ceiling windows.</p><p>“Well, that was a drag,” Gabriel’s seated at a breakfast bar. “But it’s official now, we’re married in the eyes of the Allfather,” he says through a mouthful of skittles. Sam’s pretty sure he’s only been awake for roughly an hour at this point, but he feels about ready to collapse. This might just be the craziest hour of his life, and that is a difficult list to top.</p><p>“Can you- can you take me to Dean?”</p><p>“Sure Samsquatch, right after we share our first meal as a couple, you get some real sleep that’s not induced by magic or hypothermia, and we talk about how we’re going to live with each other like this,” Gabriel holds up his wrist, on which S.W looks like it’s been carved into his skin with a knife by a child, which makes sense, because it’s almost identical to the S.W Sam carved into the floor of the Impala with Dean when they were kids.</p><p>Fuck, this is real.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was never supposed to happen. Like, at all. I swore blind I would not write this. But there are not enough good fics out there exploring Gabriel as Loki, damnit. So enjoy. Probably two more chapters to come. This was supposed to be like, 1000 words, max.<br/>I have so many other fics I should be writing.<br/>100% unedited.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam tries to ignore his problems. Gabriel is too obnoxious to ignore.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam just…doesn’t tell Dean anything.</p><p>Well, no, he tells Dean that he was kidnapped by a mystery cult, and that he was supposed to be sacrificed to Utgard-Loki, but he flat out refuses to tell Dean that he accidentally married an archangel to escape. He keeps his wrist covered, and instead he says he was able to botch the spell and get free of his restraints, and then hitchhike his way back to Sioux Falls. Dean’s too excited to have Sam back to care, Cas frowns and squints like he’s wont to do – Sam’s a little worried he can still see Gabriel’s mark? Grace? On him, but if the Seraph does, he doesn’t say anything.</p><p>Bobby just pulls out a ridiculous amount of leather-bound tomes (including a very ancient copy of  the Prose Edda) and grills Sam about the ritual.</p><p>“Let’s find these bastards.”</p><p>As Sam soon discovers, finding an ancient Scandinavian mystery cult is actually rather easy. They have a website. It’s buried under six pages of Google search results, and looks like it hasn’t been updated since the nineties, but it’s still pretty informative. (Ignoring the neon blue comic sans font on a lime-green background that makes Sam’s eyes water.)</p><p>“Looks like they value trickery and intelligence, which makes sense, Utgard-Loki was a trickster. Most giants were.”</p><p>“Yeah, cause we’ve got a great tack record in dealing with those, don’t we,” Dean bitches. “It would also explain why they would take Sam,” Cas muses, “You did trick Lucifer, after all.”  Sam supposes that he did, not that spending a millennia in the cage feels like a well-executed trick to him. (Sometimes he still thinks he hears Lucifer cackling, feels hot iron melting his bones, phantom aches and echoes of the devil in his peripheral vision). “Well, I think the ritual they wanted to use me for was some kind of binding ritual, like…Utgard-Loki wanted a slave.”</p><p>Dean makes a face, and Sam <em>knows</em> he’s thinking about what kind of slave Utgard-Loki would want. “Don’t go there Dean,” he warns. Dean just shrugs, probably happier not thinking of what could-have been anyway.</p><p>A hunter will loose his mind dwelling on what-ifs. They know this.</p><p>“So where’s this mystery cult set up home base?” Dean asks, instead.</p><p>“They’re nomadic,” Bobby cuts in. “Says here under their recruitment page, ‘a chance to see the world and obtain glory for the Jotun King’,”</p><p>“Fantastic,” Dean grits out.</p><p>~*~</p><p>Maybe ignoring the problem is not the best way to go about this, but Sam has no idea how to process what he’s done. He doesn’t even know what he’s done, not entirely. There’s got to be magical backlash, some kind of negative consequence to this, but so far, he hasn’t seen or heard from his angelic…partner? Husband? Since Gabriel dropped him off in Bobby’s scrap yard.</p><p>That is, until Friday night, a week after the whole affair, when Sam is sitting in a motel in Indiana, hunched over his computer, trying to run the license plates of the 1964 VW bus he’s pretty sure belongs to the mystery cult.</p><p>He was kidnapped by <em>hippies.</em></p><p>One minute he’s hunched over a too-small desk in a shitty motel, the next he’s in a deep purple suit over a thin white shirt (no tie, just a <em>very</em> open collar) sitting at a very elegantly laid-out table, on the deck of a riverboat in the middle of a swamp. Everywhere he looks he sees deep greens. Even the water is a murky green.</p><p>“Welcome to thew Bayou, baby,” Gabriel’s sitting across from him, dressed in a green silk shirt and wearing some ostentatious gold jewellery.  Did he always have piercings?</p><p>“What-“</p><p>“Date night, honey-bunches,” Gabriel grins devilishly at Sam.</p><p>“No,” Gabriel’s grin drops and his eyes darken. He looks…ancient. And pissed.</p><p>“Do you know what I did for you? I saved your life, I accepted your…we’ll call it a proposal, when I showed up. I did not have to tie myself to you, present you to Odin, and then, after that, I fed you and gave you a warm bed to sleep in before dropping you off with your brother. Safely and unharmed. So the least you can do is humour me while I attempt to woo my new life-partner.”</p><p>Sam swallows. “Woo?”</p><p>It seems that around Gabriel, his brain reduces itself to one-word echoes. His eyes drop to the low v of Gabriel’s collar, and, registers rather bizarrely, the lack of chest hair on display.</p><p>“Yeah, Samoose, woo. If we’re stuck together, we might as well do this properly, although I’m not against an open relationship…you’re on the road a lot, and I’m far too charming to sit at home and wait like a 60’s house wife waiting for her husband to come home from Vietnam…”Gabriel trails off and takes in Sam’s dumbfounded expression. “What, you wanted to ignore this?”</p><p>Sam’s not sure what Gabriel does, but it feels an awful lot like he <em>tugs </em>at some invisible cord connecting their wrists, and for a second Sam can feel their bond, like a string wrapped around his chest, (his heart?), connecting him to Gabriel. Somehow, it feels more intimate than anything else he’s ever experienced in his life.</p><p>Sam gasps, and Gabriel laughs, a deep laugh that feels…malicious in a way Sam knows shouldn’t excite him. He pretends it doesn’t.</p><p>“Oh, we’re going to have fun with that, later, kiddo,” Gabriel promises, and then <em>tugs</em> again.</p><p>“Stop it,” Sam gasps. He does, but he’s still smirking like he’s discovered a deep secret about Sam.</p><p>“Alright, Sam-a-lamb,” he says softly, in contrast to his gloating expression. “So here’s the plan, once a week, we have date night, like any other <em>normal</em> couple. We each try to romance each other,” he says the word <em>romance</em> with an exaggerated and drawn out lilt to it, and Sam rolls his eyes, “and once we’ve inevitably fallen head over heels in love, we tell your brother, and then we work out how married life goes from there,”</p><p>Sam thinks he knows why Gabriel chose a boat, though the urge to jump off is definitely getting stronger.</p><p>“Send me back, Gabriel,”</p><p>“Date night, Sammy. We’re doing this.”</p><p>“We are not doing this.” Sam’s got that stubborn set to his jaw, the one that makes his eyes crinkle as he clenches his teeth. Gabriel sighs, but doesn’t relent. “Well, you’re stuck here with me for two hours, at least. You can either let me romance you, or you can sit there and fight with me, but either way, you’re here until midnight, Cinderella.”</p><p>Sam doesn’t say anything, not even when a waiter places a ridiculously fancy blue cheese salad in front of him.</p><p>Gabriel digs happily into his chocolate lava cake, at which Sam makes a face, but he remains silent.</p><p>Eventually just watching Gabriel devour chocolate cake gets on his nerves, so he looks down at his own meal, which actually looks rather enticing.</p><p>Sam’s read enough stories about being lured into eating strange food though, so he refrains. <br/>“C’mon, Sammy, talk to me. This is a very boring first date otherwise,” Gabriel pouts.</p><p>“You want to talk? About what? Your hobby of killing innocents? How about the time you killed my brother a hundred times over just to screw with me?” Sam explodes. “We’re enemies, and you’re a monster. I was desperate and reached out for the only thing I could think of to help me. But this,” Sam gestures wildly at the boat, the food, the clothes, “I don’t want any of this. You’re insane if you think anything could ever happen.”</p><p>Gabriel’s face does the thing again where it goes dark and serious, reminding Sam that this is a) a powerful pagan deity known for causing trouble, and b) an archangel far more powerful than your regular powerhouse angel of the Lord.</p><p>“Well, lots to unpack there,” He starts. “First off, Samuel, I don’t kill innocents. I kill rapists and assholes and people who exploit others for their own gain. Second, I never really killed Dean. Those were illusions, but, still, I suppose that’s actually a valid complaint. I might…not have gone about trying to get you to accept the inevitable in the best way possible.” Gabriel actually squirms for a second, “Believe it or not, that was me trying to help you,”</p><p>Sam snorts, but Gabriel holds up a hand to shut him up. “I’m fond of you assholes, okay? Always have been. You in particular, and I didn’t really think it was fair that you were going to get thrust into the whole apocalypse thing without warning. But I was scared. I act up when it comes to my family, run away, make stupid decisions.” Gabriel shrugged. “I want you to know I’m not asking your forgiveness. I’m just explaining myself to you.”</p><p>“Well good, because you’re not getting anything from me,” Sam spits. He doesn’t want to process what’s being said. Doesn’t want to hear this. He’d literally rather be anywhere else right now – well, maybe not anywhere. The humidity here is nothing compared to the heat he’s felt in the past.</p><p>Gabriel, in the yellow lights of the boat’s dining room, looks golden. Gold hair, gold eyes, gold jewellery…Sam had always preferred silver, he thought bitterly.</p><p>At the end of the night, Sam’s bitter, uncomfortable and hungry. Gabriel, having spent the last hour chatting with forced cheeriness about his time as Loki (“All I’m saying is that I totally didn’t deserve to have my lips sewn shut, and the myths really don’t do me justice,) stands, holds out his hand to Sam – which Sam ignores and stands on his own – and leads Sam up towards the stern of the boat, and looks out onto the swamp.</p><p>“I’ve spent all week looking for a solution, Sam. Neither of us wanted this. But this is what we have. We might as well make do.” Sam feels unsettled by the tone of Gabriel’s voice. Something he can’t quite place but knows is going to bug him for a while.</p><p>“It’s midnight, take me home.” He demands.</p><p>Gabriel’s sombre mood dissipates. Sam can actually <em>feel</em> his mood change from solemn to playful.</p><p>“One last thing, Cinderella,” Gabriel grins up at Sam. “You gotta seal this with a kiss.” Sam, for the hundredth time tonight, debates throwing himself into the water. The Bayou was known for alligators, right?</p><p>“No,”</p><p>“C’mon Samsquatch, just one kiss, and you’ll be back in your gross motel bed, and big brother won’t even know you were gone.”</p><p>Fuck it, Sam’s exhausted and ready to sleep.</p><p>“Fine,” Gabriel’s grin widens into a victorious smile, before he leans up and presses his lips against Sam’s. They’re soft and dry, and something in Sam (the bond thing Gabriel was playing with earlier, he thinks) jolts him forward and into the archangel. He pulls away almost immediately.</p><p>Sam barely catches a glimpse of something unreadable in Gabriel’s expression before he feels the world tilt, and his head land on a single, too-thin pillow that smells like dust.</p><p>Sam tells himself he’s relieved to be back.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Five. Five chapters. This was supposed to be a one shot. <br/>100% unedited.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam asks some questions and has some concerns.<br/>Gabriel apparently really likes playing dress-up.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam spends the next week in a state of anxiety he hasn’t felt since he accidentally let Lucifer out and started the apocalypse. What if Dean figures out something’s up? He knows he needs to tell him everything eventually. For now, the brothers are halfway across Montana when Dean decides he doesn’t really want to cross the boarder today. Sam is, admittedly, a little relived, because he doesn’t actually know where in Canada he was held – for all he knows, he could have just been in northern Montana anyway, but there’s a town on the other side of the boarder that’s got an interesting history with Scandinavian settlers, so they’re trying their luck there.</p><p>But tonight they park Baby at a motel just outside a town called Sweetgrass, and Dean hits up a local bar.</p><p>Sam sits on the edge of his bed, and waits.</p><p>It’s Friday night, and Sam’s pretty sure he’s about to get kidnapped on a another ‘date night’ with Gabriel, so he stays alert, and prepared. He’s got an angel blade tucked into his boot just in case (He took it from Phanuel, Cas told him he was the angel of hope and repentance. Dean had killed him without a second thought the last time Heaven decided to blame Cas for their own shortcomings. Sam used to pray a lot about hope and repentance. He wonders, if he prayed now, who would hear it?).</p><p>He falls asleep before Dean gets back, on top of the covers, still wearing his boots and jacket. Dean tosses a blanket over him half-heartedly when he gets back, a little past one in the morning. If, in his drunken state he stares down at his little brother, tense and armed even in his sleep, wishing Sammy could have had a happier life than this, he’ll never admit it.</p><p>When Sam steps out of the shower the next morning, he finds himself standing next to Gabriel, who smiles charmingly at a hostess as he asks for a table for two – “outside, if possible. Sammy here loves looking at the water,”. They’re holding hands, and Gabriel leads Sam as he finds his bearings. This time, Sam’s wearing white linen pants, a light pink (salmon? Peach?) shirt, and <em>boat shoes</em>. Gabriel’s dressed similarly, but his pants aren’t white, they’re tan, and his shirt is a pale green. They’re seated at a little table and presented with pretty paper menus telling them what the café’s breakfast specials are. Sam orders a flat white on autopilot, and Gabriel orders a ridiculously sugary latte. They’re at a harbour of some sort, there’s boats and ships and <em>so much sea. </em>Sam’s grateful he seems to be wearing sunglasses of some sort, because he can’t tear his eyes away from the sparkly reflections of the sun glinting against the blue of the sea.</p><p>Finally, he snaps out of it, but instead of telling Gabriel to send him back, he says “I waited for you last night,” which…makes him sound like he’s pissed he got stood up. He doesn’t like how whiney he sounds either.</p><p>Gabriel’s lips quirk upwards into a smirk. “Thought we’d get breakfast instead, Sammo, didn’t realise you’d be waiting on me,” he sounds smug, and Sam snarls at him.</p><p>“You said date night once a week, I took a guess.” He still sounds like a jilted lover and not like someone who unwittingly bound themself to an ancient pagan deity-slash-archangel. He blames it on his lack of coffee and his exhaustion.</p><p>He also knows that’s a poor excuse.</p><p>“Sorry Sammy, but this view more than makes up for it, don’t you think?” Gabriel gestures out towards the harbour. Sam has no idea where they are, but he can make out green hills to one side, and noting but to ocean touching the horizon in front of him.</p><p>It’s a pretty spectacular view. But that’s not the point here. He was ready with questions last night, and now he intends to get answers.</p><p>Once he’s got some -frankly fantastic – coffee in front of him (Sam reasons that he’s too tired to care about poisoned coffee), he starts, “What’re the side-effects of this…bond?. Gabriel looks taken aback. He doesn’t notice Gabrel’s eyes widen behind his brown-tinted ray-bans, but he does notice his raised eyebrows.</p><p>“I don’t know yet kiddo, I’ve been looking into it though. Far as I can tell, our life-forces are twined together.”</p><p>Sam makes a considering noise. “How if life-force different to having a soul or grace?”</p><p>“Life-force is what keeps us going. My grace is my source of power; well, one of them anyway, and your soul is what makes you human, as you well know, keeps you full of empathy and guilt and all those wonderful things.” Sam grimaces at the reminder of the time he spent soulless. He’s not proud of who he was back then. “But life-force, that’s how you were able to keep walking around without a soul, how Cas can wander around practically drained of his grace,”</p><p>“I thought Cas had his power back?” Gabriel laughs at this. It’s a sad laugh. “Barely, my baby brother’s operating at maybe 3% of his full capacity.” Sam makes a note of this, and the focuses back on his own problems. He’ll deal with Cas’ issues late. “So, what does it mean? Our life-forces being twined together?”</p><p>“Now you’re asking the real questions, Sammy-boy,” Gabriel smiles, and Sam tries to tell himself that something cold and dark inside of himself doesn’t warm at the praise. “It means, if you die, I die, and vice versa. It also means you’re tied to my very long life.”</p><p>Sam feels cold despite the sun beating down on the picturesque harbour. “What?”</p><p>“Welcome to immortality, baby. Well, a form of it anyway. You’re still pretty squishy, but you’re not going to age anytime soon. No exit clause here, it’s quite literally ‘till death do us part’”. Gabriel’s coating his words in false cheer. Sam doesn’t like it.</p><p>“That’s why you want to ‘woo’ me? Because you’re stuck with me unless one of us dies?”</p><p>Sam can almost see his life play out before his eyes, can see himself watching Dean grow old, watch him discover his first grey hair, start loosing his memories, become stooped over and brittle and unable to gank monsters anymore, while Sam stays young and strong forever. He feels sick, and his coffee threatens to make a reappearance.</p><p>“I want to woo you because you’re pretty and this is a pleasant outcome with the chance of becoming even more pleasant for us,” Gabriel leans forward, resting his chin in his hand as he looks at Sam, “But we could just ignore all of it until it comes crashing to a head in true Winchester fashion, if that’s what you prefer,”</p><p>“You’re not going to give me a choice are you?”</p><p>Gabriel looks affronted at that. “Of course I would. I am a firm believer in  consent.”</p><p>Sam raises an eyebrow, and Gabriel sags backwards into his chair. “Okay, I’m a firm believer in consent, but you know there’s no way you’d agree to any of this otherwise. I’m just trying to show you that this,” He does that <em>tugging</em> thing froom before, which Sam now guesses is their intertwined life-forces, “doesn’t have to be a bad thing,”</p><p>“Kisses usually require consent too, Gabe,” Sam says rather scathingly. Gabriel nods. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I got caught up in the moment and thought it would be a big romantic thing and you’d realise how much potential we have together. The next time I kiss you, I promise it’ll be because you want me to,” There’s a promise in there, in Gabriel’s casual, matter of fact statement that makes Sam squirm. He’s relived to see their waitress coming with their food order.</p><p>They eat in silence for a while, (Sam with his egg white spinach and tomato omelette, Gabriel with his strawberry and Nutella crepes)  before Sam decides to do something that’s probably stupid, but Gabriel looks like he’s thinking a little too hard about unpleasant things.</p><p>“Look, this is an impossible situation,” Sam finally says. He leans forward, and while everything in his head is screaming at him not to, he gently rests his hand – the left one, the one marked with Gabriel-Loki’s mark – on Gabriel’s. “I know you didn’t want to get tied to me, hell, I wouldn’t want to get tied to me, but I…think I get where you’re going with this date thing. But maybe we should start with an exploration of just exactly how deep this…thing between us goes. What consequences and side-effects there are, aside from the whole immortality thing.” Sam really, really doesn’t want to think too hard about the immortal thing. He never really believed he’d make it to thirty, now he’s supposed to live forever?</p><p>Images of Dean’s face, old a wrinkled with age play across his mind.</p><p>Gabriel flips his hand over, and for a moment, their markings touch. Sam feels electric. Their fingers interlace, and Gabriel smiles. It’s small and hopeful instead of boastful or mischievous.</p><p>“I think we can do that,”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for your comments and kudos; I'm really glad people are enjoying this story.<br/>If you're waiting for me to finish my HTTYD and Voltron stuff, I am really sorry, those will be updated soon, I promise.<br/>As always this is unedited.<br/>A brief note on cannon; everything up to season 5 is the same, and some of season 6, but I am flat out pretending the leviathans never existed, and everything after that I am also ignoring.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam takes some initiative. Dean's pissed. Cas is supportive, and Bobby is exasperated.<br/>Gabriel's quite happy though.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam’s pretty sure he’s going crazy. Well…more crazy. He’s also pretty sure Dean’s noticing.</p><p>They found the alter Sam was chained to, but it’s kinda…charred to hell and back (It was in Canada, actually, and apparently, it’s a pretty common tourist spot for a town about an hour’s hike away), like it’s been blasted with holy fire. Sam can still make out the spell on the tree, so there’s that, at least. He’s taking photos to send to Bobby while Dean examines the chains. “How the hell did you get out of these Sammy?”</p><p>“I uh…shit,” Sam’s just now noticing the brand burned into the rock alter Sam had been chained against. It’s the same one that’s been inked onto his wrist. He’s been keeping his wrist covered for the last week and a half, but Dean’s definitely going to notice eventually; and he’s not exactly in the mood to engage in sit-com style shenanigans.</p><p>“Uh, pretty crazy story, actually,” Sam starts nervously. “Loki got me out,”</p><p>Dean’s eyes narrow, and Sam knows that face. It’s the face Dean used to give Sam when he tried to fake being sick so he could get out of a hunt to study instead when he was a kid. It’s Dean’s “<em>I smell bullshit”</em> face. So…the spell was for Utgard-Loki, so I uh…scratched out Utgard, and Loki showed up instead.”</p><p>“When you say Loki,” Dean breathes in, “Sammy. Did you sacrifice yourself to the archangel Gabriel – who as far as we know, is dead?”</p><p>“Well, yeah,” Sam half-heartedly pulls his lips up into a smile before dropping his expression into a sheepish one, “he’s not. And he got me out, but apparently, with a dramatic message for Utgard-Loki,” Sam nods at the symbol of the two snakes eating each other’s tails.  </p><p>“Why?” Dean grist out.</p><p>Sam plays dumb. “No idea, maybe he wanted to discourage he cult, maybe there’s more weird Asgard-Jotun politics at play here?”</p><p>“Sam, why are you only telling me now that the Archangel Gabriel is ALIVE?” His voice starts out calm, but by the end Dean’s shouting. It disturbs a nest of birds, who squawk and flutter indignantly at the noise.</p><p>“Because, Dean, I had no idea how to tell you.”</p><p>“Well start talking,”</p><p>~*~</p><p>It takes three hours (and more beers than Sam’s willing to admit to) to tell Dean the whole story.</p><p>Dean is, understandably pissed, and when he calls Bobby for back up, so is he.</p><p>(Sam doesn’t think about the panic room, he doesn’t think about the last time he screwed up, he doesn’t think about the hurt and betrayal and guilt and possessed-Bobby’s words telling him to lose his number, he doesn’t.)</p><p>They spend the drive back to Sioux Falls in tense silence, but when they finally get to Bobby’s, Bobby hugs Sam hard.</p><p>Sam’s taken aback, making eye contact with Dean, who just shrugs. The hug lasts a while too, before Bobby pulls back, and clips Sam over the head, <em>hard. </em></p><p>“Sam Winchester you will be the death of me,” He bitches. “You boys can’t just hunt witches without marrying yourselves off to Angels or starting the damn Apocalypse.”</p><p>“No that I’m complaining Bobby…but the hug?”</p><p>“Wanted to make sure you knew this wasn’t a panic room thing before I gave you hell for keeping secrets, again. Now get inside, I’ve already translated the spell,”</p><p>Sam thinks Bobby feels more guilt about the whole demon-blood debacle than Dean does, which is a feat in and of itself. Dean feels guilty about <em>letting</em> Sam go down that road (about dying, about not being there for Sammy like his dad had told him to be his whole life), but Bobby, Sam’s pretty sure Bobby’s guilt stems from how the whole situation was handled, not that he shows it often.</p><p>(And not that Sam blames them either, he knows he deserved it, all of it.)</p><p>“Far as I can tell, the spell’s meant to bind your life to Utgard-Loki’s, keep you under his control.”</p><p>“Life-force, as Gabriel explained it,” Sam confesses. “Apparently, when I smeared my blood over his name, instead of Utgard-Loki’s, I tied him to me and me to him, so it’s a two-way bond instead of just one-way.”</p><p>Bobby whistles.</p><p>“This is way out of my league. I wouldn’t even know how to start looking for a way to break this,”</p><p>Something in Sam <em>tugs</em> at the idea of breaking the bond, and he doesn’t know why. His life would be a lot easier if he could just get rid of it.</p><p>“Well, not even Gabe thinks there’s a solution, he’s kinda resigned to being stuck with me,” Sam admits. He doesn’t add the <em>forever</em> that lingers ominously in his mind.</p><p>“What about Cas? What’s he have to say about all this?”</p><p>Dean and Sam exchange matching looks of bewilderment. They hadn’t even thought to ask Cas.</p><p>“Idjits,” Bobby growls. When they look back at him, he lifts his arms in exasperation, “well? I ain’t gonna pray to the guy,”</p><p>Dean grunts and heads outside.</p><p>“I just…I really was just trying to mess up the spell enough that it wouldn’t work,” Sam admits to Bobby. “And I figured, if Gabriel really wasn’t dead, then lucky me, if not, then no one would show because I’d erased the intended target’s name. I didn’t want any of this,” He’s pretty sure he sounds like he’s whining again.</p><p>“Of course you didn’t, and once that idjit brother of yours gets over himself, he’ll realise that he’s lucky you’re alive and not some giant’s bitch.”</p><p>Cas has apparently been tracking the cult through the Midwest, but doesn’t waste much time on his explanation of their panic at having the ritual fail when Dean announces unceremoniously “Sam married Gabriel,”. Sam’s really getting tired of telling this story.</p><p>~*~</p><p>By the time Friday rolls around, Sam’s ready to escape his brother’s agitated jabs, Cas’ inexplicable support, and Bobby’s constant frustration at not having found anything more concrete.</p><p>He’s doing things on his own terms now.</p><p>He takes the Impala, drives about an half an hour out of the town and parks Baby in a field next to Lake Alvin. He used to take girls here when he was a teenager left alone with Bobby while Dad and Dean were on a hunt. A sky full of stars reflected back by the water, and a cooler full of beer has never let him down. And this time, he’s doing this in his own clothes.</p><p>He sits on Baby’s hood, looks out at the setting sun, and prays.</p><p>Gabriel appears shortly after, with the thwap-thwap of angel wings. He looks…small, for once. Sam’s used to being taller than everyone else, but Gabriel, Gabriel’s always had this larger-than-life presence about him. Tonight though, he looks subdued.</p><p>“Hi, Sam,” he says softly.</p><p>“Hey, ready for date night?” Sam asks. He holds out a beer towards the archangel, who looks cautious and confused, but he takes it.</p><p>“I thought you didn’t want to do this,” he asks.</p><p>Sam shrugs, “I didn’t. And I’m still not sure about it. But there are worse people – angels – pagan gods – to be stuck with,”</p><p>“I’ll drink to that,” Gabriel holds up his beer in toast. Sam notices that the brand label’s changed.</p><p>~*~</p><p>“You know, when we first met, I almost asked you out,” Sam confesses, much later. The sun set long ago, and until now, they had been drinking mostly in silence.  He hadn’t meant to say that. He’d had a plan. Questions he needed to ask, about how he’s pretty sure he’s tapping into Gabriel’s grace to heal himself, and if the sudden shifting geological landmarks are signs of a pissed off Utgard-Loki or if he and Dean should be concerned about a different threat, but none of those seem like the right things to start with.</p><p>“If I hadn’t pegged you as a hunter right off the bat, I might’ve said yes,” Gabriel laughs. “You were a very cute 23 year old, Sammy.”</p><p>“I was a child,” Sam says slowly, like he’s just now realising how young he used to be. “I was a baby. I should’ve never been allowed to hunt. I was so stupid back then.” He cradles his head in his hands in despair. He’s no lightweight, but too many of Gabriel’s fancy Belgian beers are taking their toll. He’d classify himself best as pleasantly buzzed.</p><p>“You are a damn good hunter, Sam. Even back then. Almost gave me a run for my money.” Gabriel pulls Sam’s hands away from  his face, “Almost, of course, I am too awesome to be killed by baby-faced hunters,”</p><p>“I had such a stupid babyface,” Sam giggles. “Maybe it’s a good thing I never asked you out,” Gabriel laughs, and Sam gets the distinct impression that he’s more drunk than Gabriel is. It’s not a feeling he’s used to – being the less-sober one. “This was your plan all along,” Sam accuses, “Get me drunk an…take advantage.”</p><p>“You invited me here, remember kiddo?” Gabriel <em>tugs </em>again. Sam thinks he’s starting to like that feeling.</p><p>“Maybe…I wouldn’t, it wouldn’t be the worst thing, with you, I don’t think,” Sam rambles.</p><p>“Maybe Sammoose. Maybe. But we’ve got a lot to sort out before we get there.” Gabriel looks out onto the star-studded lake, and his eyes look <em>old</em>. Dawn of time kind of old. Sam’s heart aches at the idea of watching the world for that long. So many lives, so many souls. He feels a little more sober now.</p><p>“Well, we have forever now don’t we?” He should leave it there. It sounds poetic and a little optimistic. But he can’t just not say anything, “Though you could have been stuck with someone with a less…” he struggles to find the right word, “damaged soul.” <em>Sordid past, tainted life, fucked up mind, take your pick. </em></p><p>“No, Sammy,” Gabriel’s not looking at the water anymore. “No, if I was held at gun-point, or I don’t know, archangel blade point, I guess, and told I had to pick a human, I’d probably have chosen you.” Sam blinks. “What?”</p><p>“Trickster, remember,” He twists his lips upwards into an almost-smile, although the heavy atmosphere of the night doesn’t dissipate. “Who better for me than the man who tricked the Devil. And anyway, your soul’s not damaged, just scarred a little. And scars are badass,” Gabriel does smile properly now. “And kinda hot,”</p><p>Sam’s brain short-circuits. “You…think my soul’s hot?” he puts down his beer, and turns to properly look at the Trickster. <em>What is he doing?</em></p><p>“Hey Sammy, remember when I said the next time I kiss you,” Gabriel licks his lips, and his pupils are definitely dilated, “you’d ask for it?”</p><p>Sam feels caught up in the moment, and yet entirely separate from it. This is something monumental, but he’s just not sure why yet. He nods. “Ask me,” Gabriel breathes. He doesn’t look so small anymore. Sam's brain is screaming a hundred reasons why he shouldn’t, but his mouth forms the words anyway.</p><p>“Kiss me, please,”  </p><p>And he does, and Sam yields to him, under the stars, and next to the water, and Sam's brain finally shuts up. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Apparently everything I write needs to be slow-burn. Catch the hints of plot I tried to work into the fluff. Is this more angst than fluff?<br/>I don't know anymore. I don't know what I'm doing.<br/>I hope everyone's still enjoying this though.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which shit hits the fan.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The thing about Utgard-Loki; Loki’s actually only met him once, and it was a terrifying and humiliating ordeal. For Thor. Loki had fun and got a pretty good meal out of it too; but Utgard-Loki to this day remains one of the few beings actually able to bring Thor to his knees (through trickery of course, no one’s stupid enough to go against Thor in a wrestling match or something). So Utgard-Loki is smart, cunning, and royally pissed off. Loki – that is Gabriel – has been tracking the Jotun King in his spare time, but he’s not had much luck. At best, Gabriel can guess that he’s busy setting up some elaborate trap while he sends the Winchesters on a wild goose-chase though the Midwest and Canada via his very devoted cult. At worst, Utgard-Loki’s out for blood, and Loki now has a rather obvious Achilles heel if someone’s smart enough to look. And Utgard-Loki definitely is smart enough. And dumb enough to try something despite the treaty. So, at the start of his forth week as a married archangel, Gabriel pops in on the Scooby Gang.</p><p>Sam’s covered in what smells like werewolf blood, and Dean looks like he spent six months at a homeless shelter. Cas looks stylishly rumpled as ever.</p><p>“I hope you boys are ready, because shit’s about to hit the fan,”</p><p>Dean nearly crashes the car in shock.</p><p>~*~</p><p>The knot forming in Sam’s stomach feels like its comprised of molten lava and fireflies. It’s not a bad feeling; not an apprehensive “we’re about to fight a monster,” kind of knot.</p><p>Sam thinks it might be a “I’m talking to the guy I like” knot, and he’s not okay with this. With <em>feelings.</em> Feelings for <em>Gabriel. </em></p><p>But he has bigger things to focus on. “So you’re telling me that Utgard-Loki’s been leading us around like dumbasses while he’s been setting up a trap?”</p><p>“That’s my running theory, yes. Look, Odin’s approved of Sam, and as per the Asgardian-Jutun peace treaty signed in 1709 after Freya’s fourth kidnapping that century, any Asgardian marriage may not be meddled with by a Jotun on pain of banishment to Muspelheim. So whatever it is, he’s not allowed to touch Sammy here,” Gabriel assures them.</p><p>“Dude, I have no idea what you just said,” Dean blinks.</p><p>“That’s why you introduced me to Odin?”</p><p>“My point being,” Gabriel ignores Sam’s question, “Utgard Loki can’t touch my hubby, so his next target is probably Dean, who is not the consort of any Asgardian, and as such, fair game,”</p><p>“Okay, so how? And when?”</p><p>“Well, that’s the uh…<em>tricky</em> bit. Pun intended,” The archangel grins at Dean, like he thinks Dean will find his antics amusing.</p><p>Dean doesn’t find his antics amusing.</p><p>“Well, brother-in-law, we’re going to have to wait and see. The best way to outsmart Utgard-Loki is to let him think he has the upper hand,”</p><p>“Gabe, Loki has never outsmarted Utgard Loki,” Sam grits out.</p><p>“First time for everything, right babe?” Gabe swats Sam’s ass lightly before raiding the minibar for candy.</p><p>Sam supposes it’s a good thing Gabriel considers over-charging for sweets a personal insult and uses his mojo to fuck with hotel’s minibars as a form of revenge, because Sam does not want to pay an exorbitant amount for the kitkat Gabriel’s munching on now.</p><p>Dean sputters indignantly about perverts and how they should “keep their sticky hands off my brother,”.</p><p>“Thing is, Utgard-Loki likes the new moon, Sam’s almost-sacrifice happened on a new moon, under a specific alignment of a couple constellations. So, this coming new moon is when he’s most likely to act. The cult’s been acting up recently, right? Gotten more…I don’t know, culty?</p><p>Dean raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, but Cas finally speaks up. “They have recruited two more members, and I found three abandoned ritual sacrifice spots smeared with goats blood, and littered with the bones of children,”</p><p>Sam winces. He hates when its kids.</p><p>“So, what? We wait for this psycho-giant to make his move?” He leans against the counter, carefully not paying attention to how his arm brushes against Gabriel’s.</p><p> </p><p>“Yep,” Gabriel pops his p on the end of the word. “I’ll hang around so that when shit goes down, I’ll be here to help.”</p><p>Dean makes a disbelieving noise, “You wanna help? Now? What’s the catch?”</p><p>“I have a vested interest in Sam’s continued survival,” he shrugs. Sam feels like he’s been doused in in ice water. Of course he’s only here to make sure Sam doesn’t get killed, because If Sam dies, so does he. Sam resigns himself to his feelings of rejection and melancholy, beating himself down with reminders that he shouldn’t want Gabriel to care about him like that in the first place.</p><p>~*~</p><p>“Sam,” Sam jolts awake at the sound of his name. Dean’s cuddled up to Castiel on the other queen bed which Sam makes note of to give Dean shit for later when it’s not the middle of the night. Gabriel’s perched at Sam’s side, hand hovering uncertainly over his shoulder, “If I was only worried about you dying to save my skin, I’d be on the other side of the world by now, with you in tow. Maybe even in Asgard.”</p><p>“Wha’?” Sam rubs his eyes groggily. “’m not…why’re you here then?”</p><p>“Because I’m starting to care an awful lot about you, kiddo. But I want you to know that it hurts when you think of me as this selfish monster who runs at the first sign of trouble,” Sam glances over at Dean, but he’s fast asleep. “Well, my understanding of who you are was kind of limited to hedonistic asshole, and then middle child who didn’t want to put up with sibling rivalry, and then martyr for humanity. I don’t know all that much about you, Gabriel.”</p><p>The dark of the hotel room feels oppressive, but its easier to admit things in the dark. Every hunter knows that.</p><p>“Trust me when I say this Sam, and I’m not sure what changed and when, but I am completely unselfish in my motivations when it comes to you,” That feels like a confession that gets made in a church. Sam isn’t sure if it belongs at an alter or in a confessional, though.</p><p>“Okay,” Sam breathes. Gabriel takes it as permission to initiate another kiss.</p><p>Sam doesn’t stop him. Not even when Gabriel pushes him back down into the mattress.</p><p>~*~</p><p>Utgard-Loki strikes on the new moon, just as Gabriel predicted. Sam’s a little pissed, because the new moon falls on a Friday, and damn it, he was starting to like date nights.</p><p>“Samuel Winchester,” The Jotun king booms from his throne. Sam – who is very used to being the tallest person in the room – has never felt so small. The throne itself towers over Sam’s head, “we could have been good together,”</p><p>“Pass,” Sam grits out. He feels like he’s back in  the pit, but has to remind himself that he’s not, and that Dean’s here, and Cas, and Gabriel. His husband. Who is currently holding onto him rather possessively.</p><p>“You never even gave me a chance,” The giant whines. “I’ll have to settle for your brother, I suppose,” he leans forward, resting his enormous elbows on his enormous thighs.</p><p>“Like hell,” Dean shouts.</p><p>“Well then, I guess you’ll just have to best one of my servants at something,” Utgard-Loki grins. “You remember how this works, don’t you Loki?” His eyes are feral, and from what Sam can make out, entirely ice-blue. His hair is also blue, and his skin is so pale it’s almost white, and it reflects the firelight of the hall they’d found themselves in almost blindingly.</p><p>“Yes I do, I don’t fancy an eating contest against fire again, Utgard-Loki,” Loki – Sam can tell that he’s more pagan than archangel right now, although nothing visible hints at it – calls backs. Utgard-Loki laughs.</p><p>I’ll tell you what, if any of you do even half as well as Thor did in any of his challenges, I’ll let Dean Winchester walk. If not, you surrender your Winchester to me, and I’ll keep Dean for the fun of it,” Utgard-Loki offers. Sam blanches. He doesn’t think anyone here could pick up Jormungandr, or drink several million gallons of sea water.</p><p>Loki seems to think otherwise. He winks at Sam, and agrees to the deal.</p><p>And then Sam and Dean find themselves sitting at a bar. Cas and Gabriel are missing, and the bar is very clearly a high-end one with lots of sleek metal furniture and low, blue LED lighting. It all feels very sci-fi to Sam.</p><p>“What the hell?” Dean’s loud shout of confusion has people turning in their seats to stare at him, but he ignores them. “What is this? Where’s Cas?”</p><p>“Your boyfriend is fine, relax,” The bartender grins. His hair is less blue and more black now, and his eyes look pretty human, even if his skin is still very pale, but Sam’s still pretty sure this is Utgard-Loki. He swats at a fly before continuing. “I didn’t think involving an angel in all this was fair, so he’s been shown to his room for the night. Loki too. He knows how this goes,” Sam feels…incomplete with Gabriel gone, and isn’t that just the worst thing to feel right now.</p><p>“Fair, sure,” Dean snorts. Utgard-Loki just smiles enigmatically and hands Dean a beer. “Finish this. Thor only needed three sips,”</p><p>“That’s it? What’s the catch?” Sam opens his mouth to explain, only to find his voice missing. <em>Shit</em>. From now on, Dean’s doing more research.</p><p>“No catch. Finish this, and I’ll let you go,” Sean eyes the man suspiciously, but takes a swig. “This is the worst beer I have ever tasted.” He announces, which leaves Sam with so many questions. Can Dean not tell that it’s sea water? Did Utgard-Loki disguise the taste?</p><p>Dean manages three massive swigs, but there’s hardly a dent; which Sam is impressed by. Because any dent in the ocean is concerning, and Sam’s a little nervous about the environment, even if he does have more pressing concerns.</p><p>“What the actual fuck? Is this bottomless?”</p><p>“Nope, but you’ve failed.” The bar vanishes and Sam finds himself in a pet shelter. Dean sneezes.</p><p>Well, for an unknowable trickster, Utgard-Loki sure is predictable.</p><p>“Let me guess, we have to pick up a cat.”</p><p>Utgard-Loki is dressed in chinos and a pink shirt that says “Kitty Haven Volunteer”.  “Actually, you have to find the right cat, and bring it to me. It can’t be that hard,”</p><p>“How do we know if it’s the right cat?” Dean demands.</p><p>“Oh you’ll know,” Utgard-Loki waves him off and turns to the counter to rifle through some files.</p><p>“I’m allergic,” Dean bitches. Utgard-Loki ignores him. Sam gestures to the rows of cages. “Take your pick,”</p><p>“No way, I did the last one, this one’s on you,” Dean sneezes loudly again.</p><p>His logic is simple, he’ll be able to find the right cat if he tries picking them all up, and the one that he can’t pick up, he’ll have to drag to Utgard-Loki somehow.</p><p>What he doesn’t expect, is for a tiny silver-grey kitten to poke it’s nose through the bars of a cage and stage-whisper “step-father” at him.</p><p>Sam stills in shock.</p><p>He focuses on the sounds of unhappy cats, the buzzing of an insect.</p><p>And then he remembers just how many kids Loki has, and nearly faints.</p><p>Fuck. He’s a step dad.</p><p>“Now is not the time for you to freak out, step-father. My father has chosen you, so I will do my best to help you, but you cannot let Utgard-Loki know. He believes me to be indifferent to my father.”</p><p>Sam, rightfully so, shelves his panic for a later date, and crouches in front of the cage next to the one Jormungandr is occupying. The pretty calico adult cat watches him with indifference.</p><p>“It is impossible for you to pick me up,” The kitten – Jormungandr- the world-serpent- whispers. Sam contemplates the bizarre reality of his life. “And you are not nearly so strong as Thor was, but I believe you can trick Utgard-Loki into thinking that you are,”</p><p>“Tricks do seem to be the order of the day,” Sam mutters. He glances over at Dean, who urges him with desperate eyes to hurry up. He sneezes again. Sam turns back to Jormungandr, “How do we do this?”</p><p>“Call him and tell him you believe it is me, because you cannot lift me, and then you will demonstrate. I will take it from there.” Sam figures this is a case of not looking a gift-horse in the mouth. “Thank you,” he says. He turns to call to Utgard-Loki, but Jormungander adds, “I am looking forward to meeting you properly, step-father. As are my siblings,”.</p><p> </p><p>Sam kind of misses the simple days when stopping the apocalypse was the worst of his issues.</p><p>He’s a step dad.</p><p>“Utgard-Loki, I think I’ve found the right cat,” Sam calls. “Only problem is, I can’t lift him.” Sam doesn’t see Utgard-Loki move, but suddenly he’s next to him. “Go on,” His grin is malicious, and victorious. Sam wraps both hands around the tiny kitten’s ribcage, and pulls. Gently at first, but when the cat stretches but nothing more, he pulls harder. The cat’s body elongates, but he still looks perfectly content.</p><p>Sam’s read this myth, this is exactly what he was expecting, but it’s still incredibly disconcerting. He never thought about how soft the cat’s fur would feel when he read the story.</p><p>Finally, Jormungandr yowls. Like, mourning the loss of a loved one kind of yowling. Deep and long and painful. Utgard-Loki looks shocked. Sam almost drops the lengths of cat he’s managed to pull up towards him. “What have you done?” Utgard-Loki demands.</p><p>“Nothing, I can’t pick him up,” Sam responds. Jormungandr noses at Sam’s wrist and Utgard-Loki looks so frightened that his already pale skin turns white.</p><p>“The next challenge then,”</p><p>Sam and Dean find themselves in a boxing ring opposite an old woman.</p><p>Sam’s brain races.</p><p>
  <em>How do you beat old age? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>A healthy diet? Collagen? </em>
</p><p>“I hate witches,” Dean growls, before lunging at the lady. Not one to let Dean suffer in his stupid decisions alone, Sam throws caution to the wind and lunges after his brother.</p><p>They beat her. Rather easily. She goes down hard and Dean looks stunned. “Did…did we just beat up an old Lady?”</p><p>“She’s supposed to be the physical representation of old-age, how the hell did we beat her?”</p><p>“GET OUT!” Utgard-Loki roars. Sam barely has a chance to catch sight of him dressed in basketball shorts and a whistle before he lands back onto this-week’s motel bed. Gabriel’s next to him, laughing so hard he’s struggling to breathe.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s so scared,” Gabriel wheezes out through his laughter. Dean and Cas both look as bewildered as Sam feels.</p><p>“Man, Dean, kudos to you, I didn’t think you’d manage the first challenge at all, but you really made a dent in the sea level. That’s…concerning,” Gabriel sits up straight and looks across the room at his brother-in-law. “You should probably consider AA or something man,” Gabriel collapses laughing again. “Oh man, and Jor, remind me to send him some yachts or something, man, that was good. Utgard-Loki’s never heard him make a sound and then…” Gabriel trails off into giggles.</p><p>“This was awesome,” He pushes up against Sam. “I’m so fucking in love with you,” And then they’re kissing, and Dean is sputtering and demanding answers, and Sam…it’s too much for Sam. He pushes Gabriel off of him and says to Dean, “Bobby’s, now.”</p><p>Dean nods, and together they head out to the car with Cas in tow.</p><p>~*~</p><p>Sam spends the drive back to Bobby’s in silence. Dean wants to know what happened, and why Sam’s being so angsty about it.</p><p>Sam just says he has a lot to process.</p><p>He thinks he does. He and Dean just did what Thor couldn’t do. Gabriel Loves him. He’s stepfather to a host of Loki’s children, which if he remembers correctly, include a wolf that will end the world, a giant serpent, a six-legged horse, and the goddess of Death. Gabriel Loves him.</p><p>He and Dean beat up old age.</p><p>Sam thinks back to the fight. It happened in a blur, but he remembers feeling invincible. Like nothing could touch him. Like he could fly. So Gabriel’s grace allowed him to defeat old age, probably. But why could Dean…</p><p>Sam looks suspiciously at Cas.</p><p>“Cas, what happened to your grace? You said you were only at half-power, right?” Cas cocks his head, watching Sam with those intense blue eyes of his. “Yes,”</p><p>“What happened to the rest of your grace?”</p><p>
  <em>What happens when the personification of old age meets a divine construct of power?</em>
</p><p>Cas blushes, and looks away.</p><p>“What are you on about, Sammy?”</p><p>“Do you remember Cas healing you? After I fell into the pit?”</p><p>“Of course I do, he was all I had while you were gone,” Sam nods.</p><p>“The personification of old age Dean, why do you think she was so easy to beat? Metaphorically, no one can beat old age.”</p><p>“You don’t think…Cas?” Dean turns to look at the angel, and Sam lunges for the wheel. “Eyes on the road,” he shouts. Dean rectifies the car, but isn’t particularly focused on the road. “Cas?”</p><p>“It was never intentional, Dean. And it started when I raised you from hell,” Cas admits slowly. “Bonds like what I formed with you, among other angels are as common as stars in the sky. It is how we greet each other. But I had never interacted with a human before, that was never my job; so I didn’t think when…I tied your lifeforce to my grace. And Sam is partially correct, I solidified the bond when I healed you after Sam stopped the apocalypse.”</p><p>“What the hell does that mean, that we’re married now too?” Dean demands. Cas shakes his head. “Just that I have declared you to be important to me, but my lifeforce and your soul are still untethered. I believe what Sam is thinking, is that my grace allowed your lifeforce the power to beat old-age,” Dean’s face contorts into  a grimace of confusion. “I’m immortal?” Cas nods sheepishly.</p><p> </p><p>Sam is…relived, and pained by this revelation. While Cas and Dean hash out their feelings in the light of this new revelation, Sam broods.</p><p>~*~</p><p>By the time they get to Bobby’s, it’s dark. Gabriel is waiting for Sam on the front doorstep.</p><p>“Had enough alone time kiddo?” He asks, and Sam can’t tell if it’s meant to be condescending or not.</p><p> He leans forward and presses a kiss to Gabriel’s lips.</p><p>“I’m not saying it back yet,” He says, but there’s an underlying promise in his words.</p><p>“I never said you had to,” Gabriel presses his marked wrist to Sam’s.“We quite literally have forever,”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much if you're still here. I can't believe I finished this.<br/>I cant believe I wrote this.</p><p>Come find me on tumblr: https://tinyfeministpixie.tumblr.com/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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